


Adoption Papers

by Maiden_of_the_Moon



Series: Adoption Series [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_the_Moon/pseuds/Maiden_of_the_Moon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard work, being a dad... perhaps even more difficult than being a butler. A collection of AU short stories, sentences, and mini-fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Adoption Papers

**Disclaimer:** I own neither “Kuro,” nor these prompts.

**Author’s Note:** SIIIIIIGH~ 

So, after my ["That Butler, Grocery Shops (and That Master Rides in the Cart)"](http://maiden-of-the-moon.deviantart.com/#/d2v4dbl) picture, my dear friend Hannah and I joked about me writing an AU where Sebastian is Ciel’s adopted father. And I said I wouldn’t.

Ha. 

But because I don’t have enough time to actually write this as a series, I decided to go the mini-fic/sentence route. These prompts come from the “Avatar: The Last Airbender” community, so if they look familiar… well, that’s why.

Also, I heartily invite anyone who wants to continue this AU to do so. Because I’d love to see more of it. XD

**Warnings:** AU. OOC-ness, due to the AU-ness. Fluff. Not my best work/only edited once. Lack of a chronological order.

  
**XXX**   


  
**Adoption Papers**   


  
_A Collection of AU Sentences and Ficlets_   


  
**XXX**   


01: Comfort

Sebastian Michaelis wasn’t used to dealing with children, let alone frightened ten-year-olds who had recently been orphaned. Telling the young boy he was sorry for his loss sounded so callous and impersonal; babbling platitudes was meaningless and patronizing. And while he had no desire to remain sitting in an awkward silence with the boy, Sebastian had no earthly idea how interact with this petite stranger. 

It’d help if the child would give some indication of how he felt about… well, the entirety of this situation, but no—he remained blank-faced and mute, choosing to simply watch the winter countryside go by beyond the window. 

Sebastian’s gloved hands tighten around the car’s steering wheel. “I suppose I should introduce myself, shall I…?” he ventured warily, auburn eyes flicking between the highway and the child beside him. “My name is—”

“I know who you are,” the boy intoned flatly, gaze decidedly locked upon the English landscape. “You’re my father’s old butler. And you got dumped with me because no one else in my family wanted to take me in.”

Sebastian blinked swiftly, a little taken aback by the bitterness in his new charge’s tone. “But that’s not entirely true, is it?” he corrected, trying to sound gentle. “It’s not that the Middlefords did not want you, it’s that your father left explicit instructions that you should be left to m—”

“Don’t lie,” Ciel snapped, curling his thin arms more tightly around his person. Coiled up as he was, he almost looked too small to be sitting there without a booster seat… “I lived with them for a while, you know. I know they didn’t want me. They were liars, too… and I hate liars.” 

Another hush, uncomfortable and heavy. Sebastian considered turning on the radio, but thought better of it; he didn’t want the child to think he was attempting to shut him up. 

“…so are you still a butler?” the little one asked after a few moments. The query was accompanied by a brief perusal with a single sapphire iris; Ciel’s right eye was hidden behind a gauzy white bandage. Apparently, he had been injured when the robbers had broken into his family’s home and… 

Sebastian cleared his throat. “I am.”

“That’s a rather archaic job,” Ciel mumbled, dismissive. Sebastian almost missed the curtness; he was rather busy being impressed by the pre-teen’s vernacular. “Are you quite certain you can afford to keep me on whatever meager salary you’re making?” 

And— _finally_ — there it was. It was faint, but Sebastian was quite proud of his hearing… and he knew what he had heard: a subtle but definite _crack_ in the child’s voice. Weak and masked, but true emotion (true _trepidation_ ) nevertheless. 

The butler smiled softly, feeling himself relax a bit. For all of his thorns, he was still just a scared child… “Not to worry, Ciel,” he reassured soothingly, shooting the boy another brief glance. “I won’t be sending you anywhere else. You’re home, now.”

Ciel arched a single, sardonic eyebrow.

“…well, you will be, once we reach the manor,” Sebastian corrected, sounding somewhat sheepish.

The boy snorted, muttering darkly under his breath. But even as he grumbled, his thin lips betrayed him: they had quirked into a tiny grin, growing as his tensed body visibly relaxed. 

**02: Kiss**

“Um…”

Sebastian watched the squirming twelve-year-old with an expression of mild curiosity painted upon his features. Before him, Ciel was blushing brightly, almost _writhing_ in his dinosaur-print pajamas. His toes curled and uncurled in his drooping socks; his hands were fisted in the fabric of his shirt. He was clearly a man on a mission, but what sort of mission was, for now, a mystery. 

“…yes?” the butler prompted after a spell, his feather duster pointedly half-raised—just like his brow. 

Ciel swallowed. Whined. Turned a darker shade of magenta. And then—

With a violent tug of his caretaker’s front, the little boy yanked Sebastian down to his level; thrusting himself onto his tiptoes, he briefly brushed his lips over the older man’s cheekbone. 

“ _GoodnightSebastiansleepwellseeyouinthemorning._ ” 

And with that garbled goodbye, Ciel scampered into the darkness, leaving a very confused—and equally pink—Sebastian in his wake. 

**03: Soft**

“That kid’s turnin’ you soft,” Bard snickered, casting Sebastian a knowing glance from over the many pots and pans on the kitchen stove.

The butler, in return, shot the chef a withering glare. “He is doing no such thing,” he retorted with a haughty sniff. 

“Whatever you say…” the blonde snorted, rolling his eyes as he lit a cigarette. “But two months ago, you would have killed anyone who’d tried to put a ribbon in your hair…”

Sebastian coughed, clearing his throat with a flush and a glower. “It was a present,” he explained (protested) weakly. “And he said it matched my eyes.”

**04: Pain**

“Bashed your knee on the coffee table? Did you hurt the table? Oh, I’m teasing… no, Ciel, don’t cry. See? You’re okay. Let me put a band-aid on it… There. All better.” 

**05: Potatoes**

“No dessert until you finish your supper,” Sebastian decreed, even as Ciel hissed and spat. “And you can sit there until you’ve cleaned your plate.”

“But I hate potatoes!” Ciel complained, kicking and fidgeting in the dining room chair. His caretaker ignored him, choosing instead to begin clearing his own dishes; noticing this, the child saved his energy, and instead began sculpting a castle out of the white globs of mashed spuds that he refused (on principle) to eat. 

**06: Rain**

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, did we, Ciel?” 

The eleven-year-old glanced briefly up from his soggy cereal, glum of face and pouty of lips. “No…” he grunted in response, twisting away from the sweatpants-clad Sebastian and his mug of fresh coffee. “It’s raining.” 

His caretaker cocked his disheveled head. “So?” he prompted, taking a careful sip of his steaming beverage. “What’s that got to do with your sour attitude?”

Uh, _everything_. “You said we could go to the park today,” Ciel explained— in a tone of great exasperation, for wasn’t it just like an adult to be so stupid? “But we can’t if it’s raining.” 

“…why not?”

Ciel tilted his head to find Sebastian looming above him, looking genuinely confused. “There’s no rule that says we have to stay inside,” the older one pointed out, shrugging vaguely. “I didn’t buy you that raincoat for nothing. Besides, I bet we have the whole park to ourselves in weather like this.” 

Sebastian beamed, amused by the child’s expression of awestruck wonderment. “Right, then,” he concluded, setting aside his empty coffee cup. “Finish your breakfast and get ready.”

Ciel did so with great enthusiasm. 

**07: Chocolate**

“ _Ciel!_ I said no dessert until you finished your supper! Get out of the candy cupboard!” 

**08: Happiness**

His knees were scraped, his clothes were muddy, and his eye patch was starting to slip… But the eleven-year-old was too excited to notice, squealing as he raced down the soccer field and jumped into his coach’s waiting arms. 

“Did you see, Sebastian?! Did you see— I made a goal!” 

Sebastian—too choked up to speak—nodded, and cheered, and swung the laughing boy in exuberant circles, so proud he thought he might cry. 

**09: Telephone**

“Hello?”

“ _Yes, is Sebastian Michaelis available to speak?_ ”

“I’m sorry, he’s out right now. Can I take a message?”

“ _Oh, are you his son?_ ”

“…”

“ _Hello?_ ”

“…yes. Yes, I am.” 

**10: Ears**

“I cannot believe you pierced your ears, Ciel!”

“You didn’t have to drag me out of the mall! You totally embarrassed me!”

“ _I_ embarrassed you? You look like a girl!” 

“I do not!”

“You didn’t even ask permission, first…”

“I’m fifteen! I can do what I want!”

“Think again, young man!” 

**11: Name**

“Dad, can you please pass the salt?”

“Of course, here you g—”

Sebastian froze, salt shaker in his hand and arm half-extended. He blinked once, startled.

The fourteen-year-old, in turn, shot his surprised caretaker an inquiring glance, face contorted in the classic ‘are you insane?’ expression that all teenagers utilize at least once a day. “…are you okay?” Ciel then asked, as if the significance of the moment had been entirely lost upon him. And perhaps it had; perhaps he hadn’t even noticed what he’d said. 

But Sebastian had, and he was finding it more and more difficult not to smile like a crazy person. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Fantastic, really. I apologize; here you are…” 

**12: Sensual**

“Who’s she, Sebastian?” 

“ _Ciel!_ ”

Sebastian (as well as his guest) leapt about a foot in the air when the little head popped up from behind the couch, dressed in footie pajamas and toting a large stuffed rabbit. 

“What are you doing down here?! I put you to bed three hours ago!” Sebastian snapped, scowling at the little boy who was now busily attempting to scramble over the back of the sofa. With a wriggle of his bitty behind, the tiny ten-year-old toppled (rather pointedly) between his caretaker and the brunette stranger, giving the curly-haired lady a suspicious once-over. 

“…she looks like she’s part of the circus,” the child sniffed disapprovingly. He scooted all the closer to Sebastian, as if trying to guard him, or hide him from sight. “She wears enough makeup to be a clown.”

“Ciel!” Sebastian scolded, trying to simultaneously frown at the boy and shoot his date an apologetic look. “That was both rude and uncalled for! Tell Miss Beast you’re sorry.”

“No.” 

“ _N_ —? Now, you listen here—!”

“It’s alright, Sebastian,” Beast interrupted with a flustered half-smile, apparently unsure whether she should be offended or amused by the boy’s antics. As she made her decision, she busily adjusted the straps of her top, making sure they were all properly fastened… “I’m sorry, Ciel. We’ve never been properly introduced, have we? My name is Beast. Sebastian has told me all about you.” 

“Has he?” Ciel’s retort was as biting and cold as his one-eyed glare. “Funny. He never mentioned you.”

Beast lowered the hand she’d jovially lifted; her smile was becoming decidedly more forced. Sebastian, meanwhile, was hiding his head in his clenched fists. 

“Well… um…” The young woman cleared her throat, and she tried to play nice. Tried to remember that this little boy had recently gone through a great deal of emotional trauma; tried to remind herself that it was only natural that he should be so protective of his new guardian. It would be in everyone’s best interest if she tried to be his friend... “You were actually right, earlier. I do work at the circus.”

“Are you part of the vanishing act?” the little boy drawled, unimpressed. “Because I’d sure love to see you disappear.” 

Beast’s pale face instantly became as red as her lipstick. “…alright, well, let’s call it a night, shall we?” 

**13: Death**

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Mmm.”

“Did you want to… go visit their graves?”

“Not really.”

“Alright.”

“…would you come with?”

“If you wanted me to.”

“…okay.”

**14: Sex**

Sebastian blanched as soon as the question had fallen from Ciel’s lips. He knew this day would come, but oh, how he had dreaded it…

“Er, well… when a man and a woman… um… care a great deal about each other…” 

**15: Touch**

“I don’t care if you want to or not—you are going to hold my hand as we cross the street, and that’s final.” 

**16: Weakness**

Mayelne tried—with very little success—to hide her giggles behind her hand. “I like your new hair bow, Mr. Sebastian,” she complimented with a grin, and was tickled all the further when her coworker blushed and muttered something about his adorable new charge. 

**17: Tears**

“… you know,” Sebastian said quietly, lowering himself onto the edge of Ciel’s bed. “It is okay to cry, if you wish. I know you must miss your mother and father…” 

The ten-year-old glanced up from his poetry book, head tipped in evident bewilderment. “Why would I cry?” he asked, genuinely puzzled. “I mean, I have you, don’t I?” 

**18: Speed**

Sebastian hadn’t known how fast he could run until he heard it— the scream, the crash, and the sickening silence. 

**19: Wind**

“Look at the kite I made in art class, Sebastian! Can you help me fly it?” 

**20: Life**

“Alright, first you spin the spinner, and then move your little car token.”

“Should I start on ‘college’ or ‘career’?” 

“College, of course! In today’s day and age, you need to obtain a proper education if you ever hope to—”

“Sebastian?”

“Yes?”

“I wanted to play a game, not be lectured at.”

“…sorry.” 

**21: Jealousy**

“Alright, Ciel. Look at me— _look at me_ —that’s better. Now, tell me honestly. Why don’t you like Miss Beast?” 

**22: Hands**

Sebastian’s shoulders slumped as he sighed, eying the multi-colored handprints that made a mosaic of the wall. “Did some finger painting today, did we, Ciel?” 

The little boy (who’s face boasted more hues than a melted rainbow) looked duly impressed. “How’d you know?” 

**23: Taste**

“It’s delicious!”

“You’re lying.”

“No, really. It’s very good!” 

To prove his point, Sebastian stuffed another spoonful of Cocoa Puff-infused scrambled eggs into his mouth (choked back a grimace) and swallowed. And Ciel, bedecked in an oversized and food-stained apron, couldn’t help but smile.

**24: Blood**

“ _Ciel, are you alright?!_ ” 

Dazed from his fall and decidedly winded, Ciel turned his bleary eyes from the tree he’d been climbing and instead focused on Sebastian’s panicked countenance. There was a teardrop of blood seeping from his temple, oozing slowly down the pale expanse of his face; the child hazily remembered smacking his flailing elbow into something seconds before a pair of arms caught him. There’d been a crack, and he remembered half-thinking of how painful it had sounded…

“Sebastian…?” he croaked dizzily, trying to hear his caretaker over the pounding of his adrenaline-charged heart. “Are you okay?” 

Sebastian’s response was a bone-crushing hug. 

**25: Sickness**

_Knock, knock._

“Sebastian?” 

_Knock, knock._

“Sebastian…? Are you okay in there?” 

_Knock, knock._

“Did you catch my flu?”

_Knock, retch._

“…do you need the Puke Bucket?” 

**26: Melody**

“What are you humming?”the gardener suddenly asked.

Ciel, pulled from his thoughts, looked up from his collection of Legos. If it had been anyone else, he might not have answered… But he liked Finny—he was funny and kind and would play with Ciel during his lunch break. So he told him: “A song my mother used to sing.” 

“…Oh.”

“It’s very pretty,” the nearby maid complimented, speaking over Finnian’s guilty murmur. 

“Yeah,” the child agreed. He liked Maylene, also—she was pretty and smelt nice and gave him candy when Sebastian wasn’t looking. 

“Does it have words?” the chef pressed, crouching down to add a green brick to Ciel’s plastic construction. 

Ciel was rather fond of Bard, as well (which explained why he allowed him to help with his tower); he was strong and brave and made things blow up—which was pretty cool. “Mhm.”

“Would you teach the lyrics to us?” Finny requested, grinning widely as he joined Ciel on the tiled kitchen floor. 

The child’s face immediately scrunched into an expression of suspicion and uncertainty. “Why?” he demanded, even as he shared his bricks with the gardener.

“We’d like to sing along,” Maylene explained, offering the eleven-year-old an encouraging smile. 

“If that’s okay with you,” Bard tacked on. 

Ciel regarded all three with a look of solemn consideration. And then, with a brusque nod, announced: “…alright. It goes like this…” 

**27: Star**

Ciel didn’t believe in magic (not _really_ ), but that didn’t keep him from wishing on the evening star every night. 

“I love my new home,” he’d whisper as he stared at the heavens from his open bedroom window. “Please let me keep it, this time.” 

**28: Fear**

“Ciel… I’m angry at you because you broke the vase. That does not mean I hate you, or that I am going to give you away. It just means that I am mad.” 

**29: Lightning/Thunder**

Little hands quivered and trembled as they clutched Sebastian’s quilt, giving the coverlet (and the man beneath it) a pull-tug-shake; the butler jolted awake to find a frail, terrified face mere inches from his own, his pallid features glowing in the plasma afterglow of a lightning bolt. 

“Ciel…?” Sebastian yawned, sparing a moment to glance at the clock. 2:34 AM. “What’s the matter…?” 

“Sebastian…” the little boy whispered, jumping as another crash of thunder ripped through the stormy spring sky, “I, um… know that thunderstorms are frightening… so if you want, I thought I could sleep in your bed with you. And— _eep!_ — keep you from getting scared…”

For a brief moment, Sebastian didn’t respond. Rather, he _couldn’t_ respond—he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he might not be able to keep himself from chuckling. But a few moments was all he needed to compose himself; soon, he was nodding somberly, and scooting over so as to let Ciel clamber into bed next to him. 

“However did you know that I needed you here, Ciel?” he inquired—somehow able to keep enough affectionate sarcasm out of his voice so as not to alert the boy to the fact that he was teasing him. In response, the child curled close, burying his face in Sebastian’s chest and cuddling into him as if he were a giant teddy bear. 

“I’m just smart like that,” the boy then informed with a yawn. 

Sebastian rolled his eyes as they both drifted back to sleep. 

**30: Market**

“I want cookies.”

“We’re not buying cookies, Ciel. You do not need them.”

“…then can I get cereal?” 

“If sugar is not the first ingredient listed.”

“Hmph.”

“Don’t pout—and don’t kick your feet, either! You’re shaking the cart, and you’re going to hit me.” 

“Well, then, don’t get that tomato! I don’t like tomatoes.” 

“You like tomato sauce.” 

“That’s different!” 

“You don’t say.”

“I _do_ say! And I’m not gonna eat that if you buy it.” 

“Well, then, you’ll have no dessert tonight.” 

“What?! I hate you!” 

“As you say.” 

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…Sebastian?”

“Hm?”

“…I don’t really hate you.” 

“I know.”

“But I do hate tomatoes.” 

“Too bad. It’s still going in the cart.” 

“Sebastiaaaaaaan!”

“Don’t whine. And get your hand out from under the produce sprinkler—you’re going to get all dirty.”

“I really _do_ hate you!” 

“…”

“…”

“…”

“… I really don’t.”

“I know.”

  
**XXX**  



	2. Adoption Forms

**Disclaimer:** NOOOOO~ 

**Author’s Note:** I don’t know why I ever bother saying things like “I’m not gonna write any more of this idea,” because those are _always_ my “famous last words.” 

Anyway, I blame (and thank) goodbyemyheart for this. Her [podfic of “Adoption Papers”](http://www.mediafire.com/?cu7gmlox4416a18) was _so damn cute_ , I found myself wanting to write more for this series, ~~just so she’d podfic it again~~. XD;

I also want to extend my thanks to LJ's finnsrock who provided me with prompts 21-30. :3 (As before, prompts 1-20 came from the “Avatar: The Last Airbender” community.)

 **Warning:** A continuation of “Adoption Papers.” Not in chronological order. Lame title is lame. OCCness because of AUness. BEWARE THE CUTE~

**XXX**

**Adoption Forms**

_Another Collection of AU Sentences and Ficlets_

**XXX**

1: Freedom

Ciel sat at the kitchen table for hours, staring at the crumpled letter for so long he could hardly make out the words, anymore. All the while, time ticked agonizingly by: noonday sunlight became twilight shadows, and as a bedtime gloom overtook the little white room, Sebastian came to sit beside him. 

The ten-year-old did not react. Did not speak. Did not move, save for the faintest flinch when his caretaker delicately placed his own hand over Ciel’s trembling fingers, currently fisted around the correspondence’s ivory envelope. 

“…the choice is yours, Ciel,” the butler murmured, placating and soft. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to move back in with the Middlefords. They are your family, after all…”

His voice trailed off, colored by ever-present understanding. And as his reassurances faded into silence, the boy blinked once, as if startled from a trance. But when he slowly lowered the letter, casting Sebastian a veiled glance, it was not an expression of gratitude that he wore. Rather, he looked markedly offended. 

“...did you _really_ think I was considering it?” he asked after a long moment, pale brow furrowing in quiet confusion and single blue eye narrowed in a soundless show of hurt. “That’s not why I… I mean, aren’t _we_ family now? Wouldn’t you have… have even _tried_ to stop me?”

It was Sebastian’s turn to look distinctly startled. _Is_ that _what he was waiting for…?_

“…oh, Ciel.” 

With a tender chuckle, Sebastian lowered himself to his knees, crouching before the little boy’s chair. With a ginger touch, he pried the note and envelope from the child’s quavering grasp and instead held his hands in his own, gracing his charge with a watery smile. 

“If you love someone,” he explained gently, giving the boy’s fist a subtle squeeze, “you let them go, if they wish to leave. But that doesn’t mean that you _want_ them to leave.”

Ciel’s chin wobbled, and he began chewing his bottom lip in an effort to keep it from quivering as well. “I don’t want to leave…” he whispered, voice cracking in an effort to stave off tears. “But I… I thought maybe you had called them, or…” 

The young preteen’s whimpers were suddenly muffled by the butler’s shoulder, and Ciel was only-too-happy to surrender to the hug.

“I can understand why the Middlefords would want you back,” Sebastian murmured, resting his cheek against the downy crown of the boy’s head. Ciel’s response was a questioning hiccup, even as he burrowed all the closer to his caretaker. “They’ve realized what a great kid you are. I’d want you back, too, if I’d been stupid enough to let you go in the first place…

**2: Devotion**

…but I promise you, Ciel. I would never be that stupid.”

The butler pulled back half an inch, brushing the boy’s unruly bangs behind his ears with an affectionate touch. “Stay, please.”

Ciel swallowed thickly, sniffling as a single pearly tear slipped beneath the leather of his eye patch. 

“…okay.” 

**3: Forever (lyrics by The Veronicas)**

“ _Come on baby, we ain’t gonna live forever~ Lemme show you all the things that we could do! You know you wanna be together, and I wanna spend the night with_ — Sebastian!” The embarrassed squeal was followed by the clattering of a dropped hairbrush, and a scramble to find an extra clean shirt. “What’re you doing home so early?!” 

It was an inquiry that Sebastian had a difficult time answering, busy as he was collapsed against the bathroom door, laughing hysterically. 

**4: Home**

“So this is where you live, is it?” 

Looking up from the baseball he was tossing, Ciel flicked his gaze towards the nearby fence. A petite blonde was leaning against it, watching the smaller child with hungry aquamarine eyes. Ciel recognized the stranger as the neighboring manor’s young heir, a boy his age named Alois.

“I don’t live here,” Ciel answered politely, though warily. He didn’t particularly like meeting new people in the best of circumstances, and he had heard suspicious whispers about the Trancy family... “This is where my caretaker works. When I don’t have school, I spend the days here with him.” 

“Oh?” Alois cocked his pretty head, flashing Ciel a bright (albeit faintly disturbing) grin. “Then where _do_ you live?” he sweetly asked, sounding just a little _too_ interested. 

“…I’m not sure I want to tell you,” Ciel confessed after a moment of guarded hesitation, and then quickly toddled off. 

**5: Confusion**

“…and then Lizzie kissed me,” the fifteen year old concluded, eyes on his twiddling thumbs in a desperate attempt to keep from meeting Maylene’s probing (and half-blind) stare. 

“Kissed you?!” His affirming nod was answered by a deafening, girlish squeal, so enthusiastic that it all but resonated through the walk-in closet that the pair was hiding in, having their impromptu heart-to-heart. “Well, that’s _wonderful_ , Ciel!” the maid then squeaked, cheeks flushing an excited shade of pink as she jovially clasped the teen’s folded hands. “Although,” she tacked on sheepishly, gracing the boy with an understanding smile when he finally chanced a glance upward, “I can understand why you might not… how did you phrase it? ‘Feel anything’? She is your cousin, after all. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Perfectly normal~” 

The auburn-locked beauty beamed, wholly confident that she’d managed to soothe her pseudo-son’s fears.

And Ciel didn’t have the heart to correct her. 

“…um, yeah. Yeah, I guess that might be it…” 

But he doubted it. 

**6: Bonds**

“Bonds?” 

“And stocks!” Bard confirmed, giving the butler a brisk nod. “Believe me, he’ll thank you for it, one day.”

Sebastian arched a single eyebrow, opening his mouth to protest—but in the end, decided he hadn’t the time or energy to get into a fight with an idiot. 

Maybe Finny would have a better idea of what to get an eleven-year-old for Christmas. 

**7: Technology**

“Look, Sebastian, it’s all quite simple. You have a little keyboard, see? You just slide it ou—no, _slide_. It’s not a flip phone. Stop pulling, you’ll break it! Alright, here, let me do it. There. Okay, so you use this little keyboard to type a messa— …wait, what did you do? A phone shouldn’t just _die_ like… okay, you know what? Maybe you should just stick with the normal post, hm?” 

**8: Gift**

“…bonds?”

“And stocks!” Bard added with relish, nudging the child in a meaningful sort of way. “Good stuff. You can use ‘em to save for college!” 

Sitting beside the Christmas tree, Ciel cast Sebastian a subtle, but visibly bewildered sort of stare. What was he to do with this? He didn’t even know what the numbers _meant_. Neither did Maylene or Finny, who had (coincidentally) just opened identical gifts, and were now clearly plagued by the same questions. They, too, shot Sebastian a bemused glance. 

The butler shrugged, then immediately waved a prompting hand. 

“Oh, yeah… uh… thanks, Mr. Bard.” 

“Yes, thank you, Bard~”

“Wow, this is great!” Finny cheered, excitedly waving the papers above his head. “Though I’ve, er, never heard of this company…?”

“Yeah, neither had I,” Bard admitted, chewing cheerfully on the end of his cigarette. “But it sounds legit, right? I doubt Stocks-R-Us would steer me wrong, you know?” 

“Um…”

 _Well, if nothing else,_ Sebastian thought privately as he watched the little comedy unfold, _those notes will be good fodder for the Yule log._

**9: Smile**

“Come on, now, kid. Would it kill you to smile?” 

“Not sure. Don’t want to risk it.” 

“Oh, please smile, _do_ ,” the red-haired photographer keened, wriggling a patchwork doll before the twelve-year-old in an encouraging sort of way. It rather had the opposite of the desired effect. “Don’t you want to make that delectable morsel of man-meat happy? I’m sure he wants a nice picture of you to hang in the living room, or some-such…” 

Upon his wooden stool, already highly uncomfortable (and, thus, annoyed) from having been stuffed into starched and ironed foppery, Ciel arched an eyebrow. “ _I beg your pardon?_ ” he asked scathingly, sounding simultaneously incredulous and disgusted. “That delectable morsel of _what?_ Are you talking about Sebastian…?” 

But the photographer—who’s name, according to his tag, was Grell— had already floated off into the happy realm of daydreams, giggling and molesting his doll as if it were the dark-haired man sitting out in the studio waiting room. 

“…a nice picture that will come _crashing down_ as he—and me— against the wall~!” A girlish titter, one that (somehow) managed to make Ciel blanch _and_ blush. 

“What the hell does that even _mean?_ ”

“Oh, maybe he’ll let me take a nude picture of him, while we’re at it… That would make _me_ grin, oh yes~”

…dear God. 

Now wondering if he’d ever be able to smile again, so mentally scarred was he, Ciel leapt to his feet as quickly as his pinch-heeled leather shoes would allow. “You pervert, you’re worse than Alois!” he snapped as he did so, hopping off of his chair and tromping towards the exit. “I’m getting out of here. _Sebastian!_ ” 

**10: Innocence**

_Knock, knock._

“Ciel…? Ciel, can we talk?” 

“Go away!”

Outside the ten-year-old’s locked bedroom door, Sebastian lowered his hand and sighed. “Ciel…” he tried again, sounding very tired. “Ciel, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Mr. Faust from next door came over and confirmed your story—he said he saw Alois steal your baseball and throw it through the observatory window.” 

“Yeah, he said that because _that’s what happened!_ ” the boy in the room spat, his scornful screams muffled by a pillow. “But _you_ said that I was lying!”

“I didn’t _see_ Alois,” Sebastian tried to explain, running a hand exasperatedly through his hair. “I just saw you, looking startled and running away. It was… fairly damning evidence, you have to understand.” From his pocket, the butler retrieved the ball in question, giving the worn and yellowing leather a bitter once-over. “But you’re right,” he then admitted, lobbing the toy a few inches into the air and watching it spin. Every so often— depending on which way the ball rotated— the name ‘Ciel’ would appear in smudged ink. “I should have trusted you when you said you hadn’t done it. I know you hate liars, so there’s no way you’d lie to me… I hope you can forgive me.” 

Silence. 

But then, after two excruciating minutes, there was the sound of tentative creaking. A dubious sapphire eye peeked through the newly created gap between the door and jamb.

“…wanna play catch?” the half-hidden Ciel mumbled, still a bit miffed, but clearly tired of fighting.

Sebastian smiled. “I would like that very much.” 

**11: Completion**

“Ta-da~” 

Looking very pleased with himself, Ciel smugly showed the three servants his completed Lego creation—a sculpture he’d constructed out of every brick in his collection. Nearly as tall as he was and easily twice as wide, it was a colorful tower of random turrets (and equally random ledges) that had a tendency to totter dangerously if anyone stood too close. Not surprising, since it was only three bricks thick. 

“Ooo~” Finny cooed, applauding the ten-year-old. Maylene looked similarly impressed. 

Bard, on the other hand, gave the structure a more thorough inspection before offering comment or opinion. Ciel waited patiently for the chef’s final judgment, watching as the scruffy blonde tilted his head and blew a misty spray of smoke from between his lightly pursed lips. “D’ya plan on being an architect when you grow up, kid?” the cook then asked, ruffling Ciel’s already-mussed hair. 

The boy considered this query, proudly perusing his plastic palace as he did so. It was starting to waver and whine, but in a beautiful sort of way. All the same… “No,” Ciel happily proclaimed, chest puffed out and hands on his hips. “I’d rather be a demolitionist!” 

Bard nodded sagely. “A far wiser call,” he praised, patting the child’s shoulder. 

The merry foursome then pushed and knocked and kicked the tower into oblivion. 

**12: Clouds**

“What do you think that one looks like?” 

“…a cloud?”

“You’re not very good at this game, are you, Ciel?” 

“What?! It’s a _cloud!_ That’s what it’s _supposed_ to look like!” 

“Oh, come now, don’t get angry! I was only kidding.” 

“Hmph.”

“…”

“…I guess it looks like mashed potatoes, too. Or whipped cream. Kinda. How’s that?” 

“…”

“Well?”

“…have I ever told you, Ciel, that you are one special kid?”

“Why does that sound less like a compliment and more like you’re teasing me?” 

“I’ve no idea. Now, how about some ice cream?” 

**13: Sky**

“Yes, this is Sebastian Michaelis. I’m calling about my… my son, Ciel—he’s in your class. Apparently he’s recently been bullied by another girl in his grade? …what do you mean, what do I want? I want you to _do_ something about that, obviously!” 

**14: Heaven**

“Okay, we’re here. Are you ready? Yes? Then open your eyes!”

With great enthusiasm, Ciel did as he was told—and instantly froze. 

It was spectacular— a rainbow world of edible delights pulled straight from the pages of Roald Dahl, and the sight nearly brought tears to his eyes. All along the tiered walls were lollipops (spherical and circular and square) and gummies (worms and bears and disks and other shapes that he couldn’t quite identity, but appreciated nevertheless), toffees and caramels and so many types of chocolate he’d probably need a lifetime to sample them all. Fudge was being cooked in the back of the store; the scent drifted through the air like the most saccharine of perfumes. There were jawbreakers in boxes, made in nearly every conceivable shape and size, and barrels overflowing with jellybeans, organized by hue and flavor. In display cases beside the wooden crates, rock candies glistened like sugary stalagmites in the rosy glow of the sunny sweets shop. 

With concerted effort, Ciel managed to stop salivating long enough to look up at Sebastian, eyes shining with excitement and a single, lingering question.

His caretaker chuckled. “You have a fifty dollar limit,” he answered, giving the child a small (and wholly unnecessary) nudge towards the candy. “Happy birthday, Ciel.” 

**15: Hell**

“Ewwww—what happened to _him?!_ ”

“G—give that back! That’s _mine_ —!” 

“No wonder you wear this ugly patch. It’s an improvement! I’d want to hide my face, too, if I looked like you.”

“Please, give it back…!” 

“Ugh, wouldya lookit his eye, Peter? I think I might barf!” 

“Ow— give it…!”

“Ha, I’ve seen _roadkill_ less mangled than you! Right, Jumbo? What a freak. You’re a monster, you know that?” 

“No, I… give it back…”

“Aww, look, Wendy! The baby’s _crying!_ Can’t believe that messed-up eye o’ his can do _that_ much.” 

“I— I’m not _crying!_ Give me back my eye patch!” 

“I don’t even wanna be touching this—it’s probably gross from being on you, alla the time.” 

“Throw it in the mud, Dagger! Yeah!”

“There, you got your stupid eye patch back!” 

“Hahaha~ c’mon, guys. Let’s go before the teachers show up.” 

**16: Sun**

“ _Oh, Mr. Sun! Sun! Mr. Golden Sun! Please shine down on meeeee~!_ ” 

“Finny, I don’t think it’s working.” 

“Well, of _course_ not. Everyone knows that two people need to sing the song to make it work!”

“…lemme get Maylene.” 

“It works _best_ if a little boy helps sing it.”

“I think you’re full of crap.” 

“That’d be easy enough to prove… if you’d try it out, once.” 

“…”

“C’mon, Ciel… you know you waaaant to...” 

“…oh, alright. Just this once.”

“Yea!”

“ _Oh Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun…_ ”

“ _Please shine down on meeee~!_ ”

“ _Oh Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Go_ — Finny! Finny, look, the rain’s stopped!” 

**17: Moon**

Sometimes, when the weather was warm and promised to stay so, Sebastian and Ciel would walk home from the manor, enjoying the violet-hued dusk and the other’s quiet company.

**18: Waves**

“Ciel! _Ciel!_ Hi!” The three servants whispered, chirping and wiggling their fingers in the dark auditorium, trying to get the attention of the little boy on stage. Ciel, for his part, professionally ignored the trio; Sebastian, on the other hand, not-so-professionally jabbed them in the sides. 

“Hush, now! The play’s started!” he hissed, affectively silencing the exuberant threesome. 

But when he was sure his companions weren’t watching, he shot Ciel an eager wave, too. 

**19: Hair**

“Hmmm…”

“What’sit?”

Sprawled comfortably across the couch (with a half-asleep Ciel snuggled bonelessly atop his chest), Sebastian looked away from the television set and instead turned his attention to the silvery locks that he was running his fingers through. “Your hair is getting a bit long, there, little one,” he commented, twining a few strands together in a musing sort of way. “Perhaps you should go see the barber, soon.”

“Ngh…” the eleven-year-old grunted, not sounding all-together pleased by the prospect. “Dunwanna. My hair’s not long…” 

“Ciel, I can practically braid it.” 

“Just the bangs…” the boy protested, propping his chin up so as to meet his caretaker’s amused stare. “And they’re not nearly as long as yours,” he pointed out, readjusting his arms so as to grab a fistful of Sebastian’s ebony forelocks. “Or maybe I should just get you some more ribbons…” 

The two engaged in a momentary stare-down, as if sizing the other up. Then—slowly and simultaneously—they loosened their grasp on the other’s bangs. 

The subject was dropped. They returned to watching their TV program in a comfortable, cuddly silence.

**20: Supernova**

“Bard, what’s a ‘supernova’?” 

“This for homework?”

“Mmm.”

“It’s when something in the sky blows up.”

“So what’s it called when something on earth blows up?” 

“Supper.” 

**21: Dandelion**

“Then you prick a tiny hole in one stem, thread another flower through it…”

Ciel watched, utterly transfixed, as Sebastian carefully laced one butter-yellow blossom through another, forming a bright, woven chain out of the colorful spring weeds. 

“…and there! You have a crown.” 

The butler grinned as he dropped the flora circlet atop the startled twelve-year-old’s head, chortling when the boy’s instantaneous response was a noisy sneeze. 

“You’re welcome.” 

**22: Shrubbery**

“Sebastian? What’re you… Are you watching Monty Python _again?_ ” 

**23: Lint**

“Are you sure you went through your pockets, first?” Sebastian asked, brow arched as he watched Ciel dump the contents of his laundry basket in front of the washing machine. In reply, the thirteen-year-old rolled his eyes and let loose an exasperated sigh.

“ _Yes_ , Sebastian, I did.” 

“You better have,” Sebastian threatened, bending to scoop up a few dark shirts that would fit in with the current load. “’Cause anything I still find in them is mine, you know.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Ciel mumbled, unrolling his balled up socks before Sebastian had a chance to lecture him about those, too. 

“Alright, then. That was your last warning,” Sebastian shrugged, plucking a pair of worn blue jeans off of the floor. After a brief inspection of his own (just to double check that the pockets were, in fact, empty), he dumped the pants into the soapy water. He did the same thing to the next pair of jeans he grabbed, as well as the shorts he nabbed after that. But just as Ciel was about to leave—tossing the last of his flattened socks atop the underwear pile— Sebastian stuffed a hand into one of the boy’s cargo pouches and froze. Rummaged (rather purposefully) for a second more. Then, eyes widening, he murmured an intrigued: “Oh my. What have we here…?” 

Two steps from the door, the teenager paused. “…what’d you find?” he asked dully, trying to sound only half-curious. But that was rather difficult to do, what with Sebastian making such an impressive fuss over whatever-it-was he’d just discovered.

“Quite the treasure,” the butler retorted dreamily, lips curling into a pleased, secretive sort of smirk. “I should thank you, I think, for not doing as you were told…” 

“What?! I _totally_ checked my pockets!” Ciel groused, spinning on his heel and storming back over to his caretaker. “Lemme see that!”

“Oh no _no_ , you know the rules,” Sebastian clucked, pulling the cargo pants closer to his chest and swiftly shaking his head. “This little present is mine, now. Mine, mine, mine. And maybe that will teach you to take better care of your things, hm? Now, scoot—I know you’ve homework to finish. Go on. Off you get.” 

Feeling rebuked and even crankier, Ciel shot the older man a sour glare, muttering “jerk” under his breath as he stalked out of the laundry room. Nevertheless, he’d learned his lesson, and wandered off to do as he’d been told, for once. 

“…” 

After he was sure the boy was gone, Sebastian pulled his hand out of the grimy pocket—threw the lint he’d grabbed into the trash—and tossed the cargo pants in with the rest of the dirty clothes, humming amiably to himself. 

**24: Vinegar**

“Actually, before you eat one of those cookies, Sebastian, I meant to ask— what’s the difference baking soda and the kind of soda you drink?” 

**25: Crow**

When he was ten, Ciel made a birdfeeder in art class out of an empty gallon of milk. Proud of his charge’s creation, Sebastian had hung the feeder in the back garden, hoping it might draw in some songbirds. To the bewilderment of both men, however, the only birds that the contraption attracted was a flock of friendly crows, who immediately took a liking to the little house and refused to leave—even after they stopped refilling the feeder. 

“I guess crows just like you,” Ciel had commented offhandedly, trying not to laugh when one such bird alighted itself onto the butler’s head. “It could be worse, though, right? They could be vultures or something. Or pterodactyls!” 

Sebastian had shot his charge a faintly amused, but mostly exasperated stare. “…they can’t stay forever,” he then decreed, as if to comfort himself.

Maybe not, Ciel acknowledged, but they certainly seemed willing to try. He was sixteen, now, and the crows were still there to welcome him home every day. 

**26: Inner Tube**

“Are you holding on tight, Mr. Sebastian?” Maylene giggled, readjusting her sunhat and peering at her coworker from over the rim of her prescription sunglasses. 

From the center of the large inner tube that they had attached to the back of Bard’s little speedboat, Sebastian shook his head. They hadn’t even started moving yet and he was already turning a sickly shade of green. “…I don’t think I want to do this…”

“Oh, c’mon, Sebastian!” Ciel (looking far-too-adorable in his big orange life vest) encouraged, bouncing animatedly and nudging against his caretaker. “This’ll be fun!” 

The butler, however, looked less than convinced. Rather, he looked highly anxious. Double-checking to make sure that the twelve-year-old had a proper grip on the rope didn’t help calm his nerves, either. “I don’t think we define ‘fun’ in the same way, Ciel… Maybe I should—” 

“Too late now!” Finny sang, shooting Maylene a knowing glance before turning to the blonde at the helm. “Hit the gas, Bard!” 

**27: Cement Block**

“What’re you up to, Ciel?”

“I’m drawing a picture.” 

“I see. Well, now, I recognize you and me… oh, and there’s Finny and Bard and Maylene. But who is that?”

“That’s Beast.”

“…is it really. And what, dare I ask, have you drawn around her feet?”

“That’s a cement block.”

“…”

“And those blue lines above her head? Those are waves.”

“…”

“She’s sleeping with the fishies.” 

“…perhaps you should go to your room.”

“What?! Why?! Maylene thought it was a good idea!” 

**28: Ant Hill**

“ _The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah,_ ” Ciel mumbled to himself, crouched beside a sandy ant hill and watching—spellbound—as the little brown insects scurried back and forth, back and forth. And as he did so, the boy half-wondered if, someday, he—a creature equally as tiny and weak-looking—might grow to be as strong as the ants. 

**29: School**

“How was school today?” Sebastian asked pleasantly, sitting beside Ciel at the kitchen table. Gulping down a mouthful of gooey chocolate chip cookie, the boy offered a vague nod and told him, “’Salright. How was work?” 

“It went well, thank you,” the butler replied just as genially, folding his hands atop a spare napkin.

Ciel eyed Sebastian.

Sebastian eyed Ciel.

“…you first, or me?” Ciel grunted, discarding his affable façade just as easily as he had his dinosaur backpack. Sebastian’s response was an irritated groan, scrubbing his face with his hands before yanking his fingers through his rumpled hair. 

“Sometimes I just cannot _stand_ those three imbeciles—!”

“The teacher got mad at me for correcting her when she made a dumb math mistake. I wasn’t rude or anything! And it was _her_ fault for being an idiot!” 

“And then that accursed _Claude_ fellow (God, I _hate_ him!) appeared at the door, spouting these lies about me and acting like a horrid _creep_ …” 

“Then they were all out of chocolate milk at lunch, a third-grader stole my swing, and during art class someone broke my clay sculpture!”

As one, the two men released heavy, shoulder-heaving sighs, biting back the remains of growls and curses. And while their frustrations might still be tangible, at least they were out in the open— which helped, if only because they no longer had to _act_. Thus, in the wake of their verbal barrages of anger, the two glanced up to catch the others’ gaze, reveling in their unspoken camaraderie. 

“…how about tacos and a movie tonight, little one?” Sebastian suggested with a half-smile, half-sigh, slumping wearily atop the table. 

In reply, Ciel gave his caretaker’s head a sympathetic pat, running his fingers through Sebastian’s hair in the soothing way that the elder man often played with his own. “That sounds like it’ll help.” 

**30: Chocolate Pretzel**

“What’re you eating?” 

“The last of my birthday candy. It’s a chocolate covered pretzel.” 

“Ah, your favorite.” 

“Mhm. Here.”

“…for me?”

“Yup.” 

“Well… thank you. Any reason why?”

“Candy tastes better if you share it.” 

“…that’s very sweet.”

“It’s chocolate. It’s supposed to taste like that.”

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Huh?”

A soft chuckle. Lowering himself to sit beside Ciel on the porch stoop, Sebastian popped the rest of the candy into his mouth and pulled the boy into a one-armed hug.

“I love you, you know that?” 

Ciel— notably startled, mouth ringed with chocolate and cheeks turning crimson— ducked his head to hide his delighted beam. Then he nodded, and wriggled, and murmured something that sounded suspiciously like: “I love you, too.”

**XXX**


	3. Adoption Requests

**Disclaimer:** I don’t ooooown~ 

**Author’s Note:** Once again, goodbyemyheart is to be blamed. Or thanked. Or both. XD Also, I extend my gratitude to LJ's fanfic100 comm for these prompts. 

**Warnings:** AU-related OOCness. Not chronological, but (mostly) takes place before “Adoption Papers” and “Adoption Forms." Contains an homage to “Lightning." Edited in a rush. More substance than previous parts of the series, and a bit more angst, but still pretty fluffy… Prepare for some canon-related jokes and (gasp!) het, as well.

  
**XXX**   


  
**Adoption Requests**   


  
_A Third Collection of AU Ficlets and Sentences_   


  
**XXX**   


**01: Beginnings**

“I… beg your pardon, sir?” 

From behind the lacquered expanse of his mahogany desk, a smartly dressed businessman lifted his head and offered a warm, toothy grin. A bright and wholly cheerful expression to begin with, the lovely young man’s chipper appearance quickly became more so upon noticing his butler’s mounting horror— pale features tightening and russet eyes wide. The master chuckled, resting his chin atop lightly steepled fingers. And while his lashes had already half-obscured his doe-brown irises, they did nothing to hide the mirth within. 

“You heard me, Sebastian,” the gray-locked millionaire said serenely, perfectly pleasant and wholly unfazed, even as his manservant (who was looking distinctly weak in the knees) lowered himself into a nearby chair. It was an entirely uncharacteristic response from Sebastian, who had always been the perfect butler… but Vincent let it slide without teasing (just this once), due to the nature of the announcement he’d just made. “Though really, you needn’t act so histrionic. You _do_ have a flare for the dramatics, my friend…”

Sebastian allowed himself the liberty of a dry stare. “My apologies,” he drawled—in much more his usual way, though he still hadn’t managed to find the strength to stand, yet. “But it is not often I am called into my master’s office and told ‘I am going to die.’” 

“Really?” the Earl of Phantomhive (or, rather, the man who _would_ have been the earl, if such titles existed in this day and age) returned conversationally, decidedly jovial. “I can’t see why not. We’re all going to die, someday, aren’t we? And to that end, one must make the proper arrangements…”

With a musing sort of hum, Vincent pushed himself to his feet, fingertips gliding over the glossy surface of his desk. Sebastian watched him from the corner of his eye, confusion increasing as his employer leisurely turned towards the window. In the world beyond the glass, the limpid spring sun was fighting to break its way through the gray clouds of London. “…I can’t give you the details, I’m afraid,” the older man murmured after a moment, squeezing the hands he’d clasped behind his back. “Though I know you’re intelligent enough to realize that the Funtom company is nothing more than a clever cover for… a more delicate business.” 

The butler said nothing. He was, indeed, that intelligent. Which was one of the reasons he’d been hired in the first place. 

“And, as in any business,” Vincent continued with a flippant sort of sigh, “you never know when things are going to turn sour.” He shook his head as if in deep regret, and though his general expression remained lighthearted, his lips were pursed in noticeable distress. “’Til the present, the danger of my trade has meant little to me. But now that Rachel is pregnant…” 

“The lady is _what?_ ” 

The note of shock in Sebastian’s tone pulled his companion out of his musings; Vincent chortled, nodded, and turned to face his butler once more, visage haloed by a flickering ray of light. “Indeed she is,” he affirmed, looking faintly proud despite his continued concern. “Come December, this dusty old house will feel just a little fuller. And to that end, I must ask a favor of you, my friend…”

**02: Middle**

Sebastian Michaelis wasn’t yet used to dealing with children, let alone attention-seeking babies who were always desperate to be held.

“Young master, I really haven’t the time,” the butler began—all while knowing it was useless to attempt to reason with a 10-month-old. A baby was still hardly _human_ at that age, unable to do much of anything besides eat, defecate, and waddle; trying to explain the concept of chores to the bitty creature clinging so plaintively to his leg was about as pointless as teaching astrophysics to penguins. 

“Gwaph~” the young master (an adorable boy named Ciel) gurgled, beaming up at the butler he’d taken hostage. He tried to give Sebastian’s pants another pointed tug, but his chubby grip was as weak as the rest of his body; he had soon tumbled onto his bottom, sapphire stare never leaving Sebastian’s face. 

Though it did, of course, fill with tears when his tiny bum hit the floor. 

“Oh... no, no don’t cry,” the butler pleaded, kneeling to scoop the child into his arms. While he no longer panicked at the sound of snuffling, Ciel’s cries remained one of his least favorite sounds in the world— simultaneously frustrating and heartbreaking. Thankfully, Sebastian found him easy enough to pacify; a little rocking and a bounce or two against his hip was all it generally took, and today was no exception. “There, there... Alright, then, you win, little one. I suppose I only need one arm to dust, anyway.” 

**03: End**

“ _Baschan—!_ ”

It was an almost _unearthly_ yowl, high-pitched and banshee-esque as it resonated off of the painted walls and lofty arches of the mansion foyer. The screech was accompanied by a torrent of tears, the snotty sobs and watery wails of a typical two-year-old mid-temper tantrum. 

“There there, love. Calm down, now, pet,” the little boy’s mother tried to soothe, but her quietly quivering voice was no match for her son’s keyed shrieks, nor his anxiously straining arms. She almost dropped him more than once.

“ _BASCHAN—!_ ”

“You’re sure you know the way?” Vincent was asking equably, holding the butler’s baggage as he buttoned his black wool coat. “It’d be no trouble to send Tanaka along, have him help you find your new residence…” 

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” Sebastian returned courteously, tipping his head in lieu of a full bow. He then gracefully readjusted his collar and took his suitcase from his former master. “It has been a pleasure working for you, si—”

“Please, Sebastian,” Vincent interjected, waving his hand in a glib sort of way. “The pleasure was entirely mine. It’s truly a shame I have to let you go.” He sighed heavily, shaking his head as he buried his fists in his back pockets. But after a moment, he was wearing his signature smirk again. “Of course, I won’t be the only one who misses you…”

As if cued, Ciel let loose another insatiable bawl. “ _NO, MAMA— WAN BASCHAN!_ ” he screamed, thrashing so vigorously that Rachel was likely to find herself bruised when she next put him down. It made Sebastian wince just to watch… though he made a point of avoiding eye contact with either the lady or her son. 

“If I may take the liberty to say so,” the butler mumbled under his breath, trying not to think about how unprofessional it was for him to be saying this, “I fail to perceive the danger you insist exists in this house. You claim you are dismissing me for my own good, but I am afraid I see this as nothing more than a blemish on an otherwise spotless resume.” 

Vincent snorted, a sound almost lost amongst the shrill keening of his child. “I assure you, Sebastian,” the older man teased, clapping his ex-servant on the curve of the shoulder, “if I am ever called for a character reference, I shall give you the very best. But I can’t have you here anymore, understand? I need you out there, safe… just in case.” 

“ _BASCHAAAAAN!_ NO! _NO NO NO NO!_ ” 

Sebastian bit his bottom lip, heart wavering as his eyes tried to do the same. “But… he needs me here. _Now_ ,” he weakly protested, even as he cursed himself for allowing such emotions to get the better of him. (And _no,_ that was _not_ a tear in his eye—he just hadn’t had a chance to clean the chandelier before leaving, so there must have been something in the air…) 

Vincent smiled sympathetically, but as always remained firm in his decision. “If my hunch is correct—and my hunches often are— they’ll come a day when he needs you _more_ ,” the dark-haired man whispered, resolute and low. “Until then… well, I shall just have to invest in a pair of earplugs, won’t I?” 

**04: Inside**

“Oh… yes— _yes!_ Right th— _ah! Sebastian—!_ ” 

Upon the pristine ivory carpet of the nursery floor, the pretty pallid blonde writhed and gasped and moved against her husband’s butler, kissing him just as frantically as he kissed her. 

“ _Rachel_ …” It was a silken hiss, colored by love and guilt and passion and self-loathing as a familiar, tinny lullaby floated through the air. 

In the cradle beside the rosy window, Ciel slept under an idly spinning mobile. 

**05: Outside**

“You know,” Angelina began blithely, teacup half-way to her leering lips as she cast the butler a sidelong glance. “Sometimes I think you’re too good to be human, Sebastian.”

The butler, distinctly amused, offered a small half-bow of gratitude, but was careful to keep his face impassive. “I thank you for the compliment, doctor,” he breathed, straightening as he returned to his self-appointed watch over the garden gazebo and those gathered beneath it. Sitting across from the forever-vibrant Angelina was the porcelain Rachel—a vision in her summer dress of cream and periwinkle, cradling the dozing three-month-old she had bundled in her arms. Sebastian’s gaze softened visibly at the sight, and he was reminded of religion and artwork and Renaissance portraits of Madonna and child. “…but I assure you, I am just as human as you are.” 

And so distracted was he, Sebastian failed to notice that Angelina’s claret eyes had softened with the same heartfelt emotion whist looking upon him. 

“Indeed.” 

**06: Hours**

“One… two… three… up!” Rachel sang, and as one she and Sebastian lifted the toddler off of the leaf-strewn path, swinging him avidly back and forth as they clung to his chubby fists. And Ciel, content to play this game for hours and hours, shrieked with joy and garbled “Mo’! _Mo’!_ ” 

**07: Days**

Prior to the addition of the young master, Sebastian never realized how _fast_ the days could fly—winter melting into spring, spring into summer, summer into fall, and before he knew it fall was transforming into winter once again. 

**08: Months**

“Aww, what a cutie! How old is he?”

“He turns six months today.”

“He is absolutely _adorable_. I bet you bring him here just to show him off!”

“Oh, no. This little one is like a dog—he lives for his daily stroller ride through the park. Showing him off is but a bonus.”

“Haha, oh my… look, he just giggled! Oh, I could just eat you up, love, I really could! I don’t blame your daddy for being so proud of you~”

“Hm? Oh, no, I’m not—”

“Anyway, thank you for humoring my mothering tendencies. Though—oh, I’ve got to get going! I’ve a job interview for a position as a nanny. It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Sebastian.”

“Likewise, Miss Paula. Best of luck during your interview.” 

**09: Years**

Eight years was such a long, long, _long_ time…

“Ciel Phantomhive…?” 

The battered ten year old—sullen and silent atop his brown plastic chair—glanced up at the sound of his name, single blue eye (so much like his mother’s) dull and once-smiley lips set into an acerbic glower.

Sebastian sucked in a deep breath and wondered vaguely what he’d gotten himself into. 

**10: Red/Orange/Yellow/Green/Blue/Purple /Black/White**

“Young master, crayons are more effective on paper than they are on your tongue.” 

**11: Colorless**

“I just… I _can’t do this_ to him anymore, Rachel. I can’t do this to _either_ of them…” 

He swallowed thickly, fingertips trailing up and down her tear-stained cheek, even as he tried to let her go. 

**12: Friends**

“Oh, Sebastian. So _serious_ ,” Vincent laughed, wearing a teasing scowl in mimicry of his butler. “You needn’t always act so formal, you know. I’d much rather be your friend than your boss.”

Even after five years, Sebastian was never entirely certain what to say in response to pronouncements like this. In the end, he settled for a hesitant, “Thank you…?”

Which simply encouraged Vincent’s chortles. 

**13: Enemies**

“Sir, I have apprehended the targets,” Sebastian announced into the walkie-talkie, giving the intruders he’d recently bound a swift kick for good measure. 

**14: Lovers**

It wasn’t that she didn’t love Vincent—no, that really wasn’t it. She just loved Sebastian so much _more_ , and Rachel had never been very good at hiding her feelings. 

**15: Family**

“Isn’t this supposed to be a _family_ trip to the beach…?” Sebastian asked warily, even as he handed his master the picnic basket he’d packed. Once it had been unloaded from the car, he started to disentangle the fold-out chairs from the umbrella, and handed his mistress a beach ball to inflate. “I must wonder, then, why I was invited…”

Vincent grinned, slapping his butler genially on the back as he unbuckled Ciel from his booster seat. “It’s _because_ it’s a family trip that you were invited,” he then explained, sliding his sunglasses off of his nose and instead slipping them onto the startled Sebastian’s face. “Now, let’s impress the kid, shall we? I order you to help me make the grandest sandcastle on the beach.” 

Despite himself, the butler couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, my lord,” he chuckled, playfully readjusting his newly-acquired shades. 

**16: Strangers**

The pair collided with the sound of splintering glass, clattering metal, and whining plastic. Jarred fingers loosened around rubber-padded handles; baskets went flying and potential purchases soared through the air— falling with cracks, shatters, and thuds against the tiled linoleum floor. 

“Pardon me,” Sebastian apologized dourly, kneeling to collect the groceries he’d once had so neatly organized, but were now a higgledy-piggledy pile of dented cans and bruised produce. 

“Oh, n- no! The fault was mine! I didn’t see you there…” the girl before him trilled, pushing her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose and bowing in abject apology. Sebastian regarded her with a cold stare; by the cut of her outfit, it was clear that she was the maid of some family in the area, and a new one at that. “H- here, let me help—!”

She immediately stepped on a carton of eggs, slipped on the spilled yolks, and crashed into a carefully crafted display of jell-o boxes. 

“…I think you’ve helped quite enough, thank you,” Sebastian sighed, and privately prayed that he’d never have to deal with staff like that in any house in which he was employed. 

**17: Teammates**

“May I join you?” the butler asked graciously, holding aloft a cup of tea and a small plate of homemade biscuits. 

Looking up from his seat by the window, the elderly gentleman beamed and responded with a welcoming, “ho, ho, ho.” 

**18: Parents**

“What were your parents like, Sebastian?” Rachel asked curiously, rolling onto her back and craning her fragile neck. From her unusual, upside-down vantage point, she watched the butler dress as she combed lazy fingers through her wavy gold locks, cozy and comfortable in her mussed nest of sheets.

Sebastian paused as he fixed his cufflinks, contemplative. 

“I am not entirely certain,” he then confessed, twisting a fraction so as to shoot his mistress an apologetic glance. “They never spent much time with me.” 

_What?_ “But… that’s horrible,” the young woman scowled, looking properly put-out. Dejected, her half-lifted hands collapsed against the mattress; the flaxen curtain of curls she’d been toying with tumbled over the edge of the bed, glossy and unrestrained. “Work can always wait, but you can’t stop children from growing, you know?”

The butler smiled, chuckling gently. “Well, I’m happy _you_ realize that, my lady,” he murmured, bending low to press a butterfly-kiss against the curve of her increasingly-round belly. 

**19: Children**

“…he isn’t yours.” 

With a noticeable start, Sebastian spun towards the nursery door— though one hand remained decidedly twined around the bars of the wooden cradle, as if hesitant to let go. Rachel, in turn, stood in the entryway: perfectly composed, perfectly serene, perfectly stunning. Just like always… 

The poised blonde offered the butler an unconvincing grin, and Sebastian could see (beneath the polished veneer of her customary mask) that she wasn’t entirely certain how to proceed, now that the truth had been vocalized. Should she act contrite, or perhaps congratulatory, or…? 

“I know he isn’t,” Sebastian replied— just as calm— before returning his attention to the crib. “He has the master’s distinctive ash-gray hair, as well as his handsome bone structure. Any fool could see that he is a Phantomhive, through and through.” 

Said Phantomhive sniffled in his sleep, a pudgy hand curling beside his cheek. And as those five minute digits folded into a fist, an equally small leg jerked. Kicked. Ciel’s star-encrusted comforter shifted as he wriggled, exposing his stocking-covered feet; Sebastian tucked the squirming baby back beneath his blanket’s warmth without so much as a second’s pause or delay. 

And Rachel, watching this, clenched her hands above her heart, feeling it ache as her cerulean eyes grew wet. “Seba—”

“He does not need to be mine for me to care about him, does he?” Sebastian interrupted, the query as soft as the gaze he cast his mistress. When she did not respond (apparently silenced by surprise), he replaced his brief and flickering glance with a brief and flickering smile. “I am happy that he is the master’s,” the butler then added, in a tone of genuine— albeit faintly pained— honesty. “The last thing I need is another reason to hate myself for…” 

He trailed off, unable to bring himself to name their sin. And Rachel, in turn, nodded her understanding, though that didn’t stop her from sidling beside him and slipping her hand through his own. 

“For what it’s worth,” she then breathed, further twining their fingers together, “I think you’ll make a wonderful father, someday.”

But even before she spoke, Sebastian was shaking his head— chuckling quietly in mild (but affectionate) exasperation. “Please don’t say that,” he chastised, alabaster skin glowing an ethereal shade of white as the summer rainclouds suddenly parted, relinquishing their hold on the harvest moon. Its silvery light broke through the lace curtains of the window, collecting as puddles and pools of indigo mercury around their feet. “You know that I have no desire for children… unless they were with you.” 

Rachel could say nothing in response to this, and in lieu of words allowed her wilting head to fall to rest against his shoulder. It was a pleasure that she could not afford— but nor was it a pleasure that she could deny, not when Sebastian’s lips skimmed so tenderly over her temple, her ear, her cheek, her throat… 

**20: Birth**

Her husband (as usual) was off on business when their son was born, and was unable to visit the hospital until the following day. But Rachel didn’t mind. Rather, it gave her an excuse to hold Sebastian’s hand, and a beautiful fantasy to focus on as she was battered by wave after wave of seemingly endless pain. 

**21: Death**

Vincent was too involved in the service, and Rachel was too stricken by grief, so the task of holding Ciel during Angelina’s funeral fell to Sebastian. It was a job that he dutifully performed, and— as always— carried out with an impressive degree of success… But whenever the baby _did_ start to fuss (be it from discomfort or hunger or exhaustion), the butler couldn’t help but lament that he was too young to cry over his aunt, who loved him so dearly and was no longer around. 

**22: Sunrise**

“And what are you doing awake, young master?”

The toddler standing in the crib blinked once, acknowledging, but offered no answer. Instead, he lifted his plump little arms and waved them in Sebastian’s direction, gurgling and cooing and grinning at the sight of his favorite person. 

**23: Sunset**

At the end of each day, Vincent made a point of finding some time to spend with his son, whether it be a quick game of peek-a-boo or a picture book that Ciel would eagerly slap and spit over. 

**24: Too Much**

“You don’t really think you’re going to eat all of that, do you?” Rachel teased, and the sound of her bell-sweet titters caught the birthday boy’s attention. Ciel looked up from the pastry he’d just patty-caked into oblivion, giggling and smacking his frosting-covered hands together as he further smeared himself with chocolate frosting. 

**25: Not Enough**

“…I think I may require another bottle of shampoo,” Sebastian announced flatly, kneeling beside the gilded tub but still just as wet as if he were inside of it. Ciel squealed, unconcerned, as he slapped the bubble-encrusted water and sank one of his toy boats. A family of rubber ducks were also caught in the mini-tsunami’s wake, but they were fast to float back… probably attracted to all of the cake crumbs and glitter glue that Sebastian was trying (without much success) to scrub out of his young master’s hair. 

**26: Sixth Sense**

He wasn’t sure what made him turn around, but Sebastian was wholly thankful that he did so. “Young master!” he gasped, all but diving for the toddler tottering on the edge of the staircase. Like most things, Ciel thought Sebastian’s alarm was a game, and babbled gleefully as he was swept up into the older man’s arms.

“I do not think you are quite ready to tackle the steps,” the butler admonished, aware that the reprimand fell upon deaf ears. Oh well; it’s not as if the rebuke held much bite, anyway—it was hard to stay annoyed when the infant nuzzled so earnestly into his chest. 

**27: Smell**

The even creaking of the rocker, the slumbering snivels of the baby, the delicate warmth of his body, the sweet scent of powder and soap that perfumed the star-lit nursery… It would have been enough to lull a chronic insomniac to sleep; the poor butler stood no chance at all. 

**28: Sound**

“What is the matter, young master?” Sebastian asked dotingly, the hushed inquiry drowned out by the babe’s whimpered sobs. “Did your mobile stop? Is that why you cannot sleep anymore? Here, allow me…” 

**29: Touch**

“ _Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker’s man. Bake me a cake as fast as you can_ ,” Rachel chanted, holding up her petite palms and allowing the toddler to slap merrily away at them, laughing all the while. “ _Roll it, and pat it, and mark it with a C, and put it in the oven for Ciel and me!_ ”

“Kake!” the almost-two-year-old cheered, teeming with giggles as his mother dove in to tickle his rounded tummy. “We kake!” 

“Indeed, we do,” Sebastian agreed, appearing unexpectedly in the open patio doorway. Ciel released another excited shriek upon seeing the butler, crawling towards him just as fast as he could; Rachel beamed, equally happy but hiding it (a little bit) better, as she looped loose strands of curling hair behind her ears. Sebastian grinned and offered a courteous bow. “My lady, it is time for tea.” 

**30: Taste**

“I— I beg your pardon.” 

Blushing brightly, Sebastian quickly averted his gaze; beside Ciel’s crib, Rachel was swiftly turning the same shade of rose-red.

“Sebastian! I, um… didn’t expect you to find the burping cloth so fast,” the pretty blonde garbled, hastily trying to fix her blouse and cradle her son at the same time. It was a rather fruitless endeavor—Sebastian didn’t need his eyes to see that—and was soon offering to hold the recently-fed baby, if only to give his mother a chance to properly cover herself.

“Thank you…” Rachel said sheepishly as the butler took control, deftly patting Ciel’s tiny back and encouraging him to burp. “I still haven’t gotten used to this breastfeeding bra and… um… I guess I didn’t really need to tell you that.” Her ruddy china features turned a darker shade pink, endearing in her embarrassment.

Sebastian, in turn, chuckled weakly, trying to look anywhere but at his master’s wife. (The speckled ceiling was actually quite fascinating, if you gave it a chance.) “Never mind, my lady,” he comforted. “You’ve no reason to be flust—”

It was then that the butler realizing something both good and bad. On the plus side, the boy leaning against his shoulder had just made a very healthy (and very wet) burping nose. Job well done, and all that. Unfortunately, in his haste to help his mistress, Sebastian had forgotten that he’d left the burping cloth slung over his arm. 

_Of course._

“…oh dear.” Rachel, ever animated, was having a difficult time hiding her growing grin; the butler was having a similar problem, though he was busy attempting to mask disgust and self-directed irritation. Both were successful to a degree, though it took Sebastian a considerable amount of extra effort. Conversely, the young woman— while still fighting against the overwhelming desire to laugh— also felt sincere remorse for the fate of Sebastian’s expensive suit coat, and was thus able to redirect her energies to fussing over that. “Oh, no, Sebastian, I’m so sorry…”

“It is not your fault,” Sebastian assured, gingerly handing the half-asleep infant back to his mother. The butler also offered the cloth he’d brought, and Rachel quickly cleaned Ciel’s face before putting him back to bed. He was unconscious again before his head hit the pillow. 

“But I feel right _awful_ about this… I should have said something, but I didn’t. And I’m sorry, but your facial expression was just— oh, here, come with me, I’ll try to rinse it off for you,” Rachel proclaimed, and with an insistent tug began leading the butler down the hall, heaving him into the master bedroom despite Sebastian’s mounting protests of “my lady, you really needn’t concern yourself” and “I am perfectly capable of washing it on my own…” 

“No, I want to help,” the blonde said definitively, and she had always been such a _stubborn_ thing; the butler sighed, recognizing that he had no choice in the matter. And so, as always, he found himself surrendering to the lady’s whims. He allowed her to spin him around and assess the damage; did not object when he was dragged into the attached bathroom; did not complain when she almost wrenched his arms out of their sockets while trying to disentangle him from his coat; did not protest when she accidentally soaked the front of his white ironed shirt, splashing water everywhere when she threw his jacket (without ceremony) into the overflowing sink. 

“…I’ve just made things worse again, haven’t I?” Rachel bemoaned a good ten minutes later, lowering herself to her knees as Sebastian crawled about on the floor, mopping up her mess with a spare towel from the closet. 

The butler made a sound that was _almost_ a snort, but was still somehow urbane. “Well, you do have a way of keeping things interesting, my lady,” he returned, wringing out the sopping cloth in the bathtub. “But it is alright, I can certainly…” 

The sentence died with a falter and a flush, Sebastian’s eyes widening as they fell fully upon the young woman beside him. “…mistress, you never finished buttoning your blouse.” 

“Huh? Oh!” Looking down with a gasp and a jump of horrified realization, Rachel clasped her hands over her exposed chest and laughed awkwardly, even as her gaze was inexplicably drawn to Sebastian’s. “Goodness me, I… I was so distracted by your jacket that I… um… I’m sorry, I— oh my, let me fix it…”

But by that point, nerves had long-since taken their toll. Heady blood rushing from humiliation, shock, and other emotions that made her heart race, Rachel was no longer able to keep her fingers steady; they tripped and trembled over the slippery pearl beads, making it impossible to slide the buttons through their proper holes. Even still, she tried, and tried, and tried again, fumbling frenetically until—rather suddenly— her hands were stilled.

Startled, Rachel looked up to find Sebastian’s face mere inches from her own, his larger palms easily encircling the entirety of her fists, encasing them in a tentative embrace. What little air had caught in her throat seemed to vanish all together, leaving her lungs (and other parts of her body) on fire… 

“…here,” the butler murmured, low voice breathless as his auburn eyes smoldered, slicing through the shadows like twin embers. Unruly strands of his ebony forelocks brushed against her cheeks, just as his words tickled the flesh of her temple. “Allow me.” 

Long, loving fingers trailed timidly upward, touching buttons and sternum and whispering over the curvature of a partially exposed breast… And soon Rachel’s hands were once again fisted around buttons: yanking the small plastic disks from the butler’s moist shirt as they tumbled wantonly backward, limbs tangling and mouths moaning and lips fervently locked… 

**31: Sight**

“Where is the young master…?”

The six-month-old burbled, staring in bewilderment at the gloved hands currently floating above his head. But when the slim fingers parted, his delighted yelp was enough to make anyone smile. 

“ _There_ he is!” 

**32: Shapes**

Sebastian watched, faintly amused, as Ciel tried obstinately to jam a square-shaped block through a triangular hole in his tiny toy peg board. When a wandering maid attempted to assist him in the task, he yowled angrily until she left; the butler rolled his eyes with a chortle before returning to his chores.

“Just as mulish as his mother... what a fun teenager he’ll make.” 

33: Circle

“ _Ring around the rosy…_ ”

“Mistress, I… I know it is not my place, but…” 

“ _Pocket full of posies…_ ”

“Must you play that game with the young master?”

“ _Ashes, ashes…_ ” 

“It is about the plague, you know, and as such is a horrible topic to sing about…”

“ _We all fall down!_ ”

“I would hate for him to have nightmares.”

**34: Star (Lyrics by Gregory and the Hawk)**

“ _If you be my star, I'll be your sky. You can hide underneath me and come out at night…_ ” 

Lulled by the familiar melody, the toddler yawned and wiggled and curled more tightly around the singer’s hand, holding it like a teddy bear. 

**35: Heart**

“You love Rachel, don’t you?”

“Sir?” 

Behind his half-raised newspaper, Vincent chuckled and grinned, flashing his butler a heartening glance. “It’s alright, Sebastian,” he then reassured, flipping the crinkling pages of the daily rag. “I can hardly blame you. In fact, if I were a better man, I’d let you take her and Ciel far, far away from here…”

His employer sighed, stretched, and tossed his reading away, lifting his empty tea cup in a wordless request for a refill. Sebastian did as he was told without question, though his mind was now full of them. 

**36: Diamond**

“You look lovely,” Sebastian complimented reverentially, bowing low before his mistress. In response, the glittering vision that was Rachel Phantomhive beamed, nodded, and stooped down to kiss her son goodbye, leaving for the theater with a wave and her husband. 

**37: Water**

“You know, little one,” the butler said—amusingly conversational— as he regarded the infant splashing around in the sink, “I appreciate the help, but I am perfectly capable of washing myself.” 

**38: Earth**

“Look! Look, Ciel! We made a… a… ” Exuberance fading ever-so-slightly as she tried to figure out what, precisely, she and the two-year-old had made, Rachel squinted and considered the muddy sculpture. “A mound of dirt!” she eventually decided, throwing up her arms in parody of her son. “Isn’t that exciting?!” 

**39: Air**

“He’ll probably have asthma,” Angelina announced with a somber sigh, stuffing her stethoscope back into her lab coat pocket. The toddler in Sebastian’s arms coughed feebly, sucking in a raspy breath; Rachel wrung her worried hands, close to tears and still on the verge of a panic attack. 

**40: Breakfast**

“Open wide for the airplane, Ciel…!” Rachel cooed, bringing an undulating spoonful of oatmeal to the baby boy’s messy mouth. But, as before, the little one refused to ‘open wide,’ instead staring impassively at his mother and the gummy paste that she was trying to make him eat. “Oh, come now, love,” his mum tiredly cajoled, pulling back the spoon in preparation for another go. “Just try a little, pl— hm?”

She glanced up, surprised, when Sebastian’s gloved hand fell upon her shoulder. 

“If I may take the liberty,” the butler said smoothly, folding the apron he’d been wearing over his arm, “the young master prefers trains to planes. With your permission…?”

Without a word, Rachel handed him the spoon, watching inquisitively as Sebastian proceeded to bring the oatmeal back to Ciel’s lips, moving the utensil in the same undulating manner that she had. “Come now, young master,” he then coaxed. “Open up for the choo-choo train…” 

At the sound of the first “choo,” Ciel’s eyes (and mouth) widened with delight. He swallowed his breakfast with notable pleasure. 

“There, you see?” the butler concluded, handing the oatmeal-less spoon back to his stunned mistress. “It’s all quite simple.” 

“…you really are amazing, Sebastian,” Rachel praised, accepting the plastic utensil and dipping it back into the bowl, merrily feeding the now-eager toddler. “Sometimes I wonder how you do it…”

“Oh, such a feat is hardly impressive,” Sebastian returned easily, amusement in his voice as the jolly infant gurgled. “After all, as a servant of Phantomhive, it is only natural that I should know how to care for my young master.” 

**41: Food**

“Young master, what are you—? No, get that out of your mouth! That food is for the dog, not for you!” 

**42: Drink**

“That _wasn’t_ an invitation to play in the dog’s water, little one!” 

**43: Winter**

Bedecked in a puffy white snowsuit and a pom-pom laden hat, Ciel looked more like a discarded snowball than an infant child as he watched his mother and butler build him a snowman. 

**44: Spring**

“Then you prick a tiny hole in one stem, thread another flower through it…” 

Ciel watched, utterly transfixed, as his mother carefully laced one butter-yellow blossom through another, forming a bright, woven chain out of the colorful spring weeds. 

“…and there! You have a crown.” 

Rachel grinned as she dropped the flora circlet atop the two-year-old’s head, giggling as he released an enthusiastic squeak. He then immediately sneezed, yanked the crown off, and attempted to eat it.

“Very impressive work, my lady,” Sebastian commended, tugging the bitter buds from the baby’s mouth and admiring his mistress’s (slightly gnawed) handiwork. “Might you be able to teach me how to make such a crown?” 

The lovely blonde beamed. “Of course!” 

**45: Summer**

“Please stop your squirming, young master. You shall get sunburned if you don’t let me put lotion on your nose…” 

**46: Fall**

“Up high, Ciel! Up high! Wheee…!” Rachel sang, nimbly lobbing the laughing little boy up and down, up and down, amidst the swirling crimson leaves. 

**47: Passing**

Sometimes, it was too painful even to look at each other when they passed in the halls.

Other times, Sebastian would allow the back of his hand to brush, just-so, against his mistress’s— more of a teasing breath of air than an actual touch, but telling all the same. 

And once in a while, when Rachel could stand it no longer, she would stall the butler with her body: accidentally-on-purpose running into him just so that she could feel his warmth pressed against her. 

**48: Rain**

The young master was a force of nature in and of himself, and nothing—not wind, not hail, not sun, nor showers—could stop him when he got going. 

Though on days like this, Sebastian lamented, he rather wished the latter would at least slow the two-year-old down… he’d only just finished cleaning up the mud from _last_ week’s adventures in the rain. 

**49: Snow**

“Tilt your head back and say ‘ah,’ Ciel! Come on, pet, try it! See? Mummy caught a snow flake on her tongue. Can you do it, too?” 

**50: Lightning**

There was lightning on the walls (again), and Rachel was afraid (as always), and Vincent wasn’t home (like usual), and Sebastian couldn’t bear to see her scared, or sad, or _oh_ , no, he shouldn’t, _they_ shouldn’t, but _ah_ … 

**51: Thunder**

“There, there, young master, do not be scared… Oh, listen—you are far louder than that silly old thunder. It should be frightened of _you_ , not the other way around!” 

**52: Storm**

It was storming on the day they first met—when Rachel opened the manor door and there he stood, suitcase in hand, respectfully tilted forward as he murmured a modest sort of greeting. 

It was storming on the day she first noticed— became fully aware of the way he made her heart leap into her throat, and her pulse echo so loudly in her ears that it obscured even the most deafening claps of thunder.

It was storming on the day he first kissed her— velveteen lips brushing oh-so-tenderly across the cut she’d given herself, the paring knife nipping her finger when a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky.

It was storming on the day they first made love— their shadows intertwining as the pounding rain silenced their gasps, their groans, and their desperate, three-word confessions. 

It was storming on the day that he left—though her son undoubtedly shed more tears than any raincloud could ever hope to produce, sobbing ever-harder as the day turn to night and the night turned to day.

It was storming on the day that she died—or, at least, the day that he heard of the Phantomhives’ deaths, and the only thing that kept Sebastian from drowning in sorrows of his own was the knowledge that the little boy who’d cried for him was still alive… out there, somewhere, waiting in the rain.

**53: Broken**

“What’s the matter, mum?” 

“Hm?” Still notably dazed, Rachel nevertheless managed to tear her gaze away from the foggy bay windows, distracted from the summer storm clouds she’d been watching roll in. Behind her, framed by his old nursery doorway, the six-year-old Ciel offered his mother a quizzical look. “Oh, hullo, dear. I’m sorry, I was just thinking...”

Biting her bottom lip, Rachel twirled her marriage band around her finger once, twice, three times, and then forced a smile for her befuddled son. 

**54: Fixed**

“And… _there_.” With an elegant flourish, Sebastian lifted the freshly patched footie pajamas, giving Ciel the opportunity to scrutinize his handiwork. “How does that look, young master?”

The one-year-old blew a spit bubble, chewing on his bitty finger. 

“I am glad they meet with your approval.” 

**55: Light**

“You needn’t carry him around like that all of the time, you know,” Rachel told the butler, watching with poorly suppressed amusement as Sebastian’s rag sent a fine spray of dust into the misty air, and Ciel—cooing in the older man’s arms—tried to catch the glittering particles as they twirled and spun in the golden light of the study. 

**56: Dark**

Ciel wheezed, Rachel fretted, and the whole house seemed so much _darker_ than it had mere days before. 

**57: Shade**

The dappled light of midmorning filtered through the summer trees, casting leafy shadows of forest-green and dark emerald upon the grass. Heavy with the scent of honeysuckle and lavender, the impish west wind danced a mischievous waltz through the blossoming garden, running invisible fingers through waxy petals and loosened locks of flyaway hair. Beneath the sheltered rustling of the old oak tree, Rachel and her baby son lay in a tranquil slumber, smiling as the butler kept silent vigil over them both. 

**58: Who**

“My lady, do—?”

But Rachel was already shaking her head, trembling hands fisted over her still-flat stomach. 

**59: What**

Sebastian froze. Gawked. Turned mechanically around, eyes automatically dropping to the kitchen floor. Near his feet, a small child wearing a tupperwear bowl on his head was staring readily back at him, admiration in his eyes as he hugged the butler’s pant leg. 

“…what did you just say?” 

The eleven-month-old flashed the startled Sebastian a jubilant grin, one strap of his jean overalls dragging behind him on the floor. And then he squealed again: “Da!” 

**60: Where**

“And where do you think _you’re_ going? Oh no, don’t think that innocent face will work on me, young master. You know that you are not supposed to be crawling around the servants’ quarters.” 

**61: When**

He wasn’t sure when, but Vincent knew that—someday— business would catch up with him. And if no one else, he wanted to save Sebastian from its repercussions. 

**62: Why**

Sometimes, he wondered why everything he loved belonged to his master. But— more often— Sebastian wondered why he’d never hated his master, despite that truth. 

**63: If**

“With all due respect, sir,” Sebastian frowned, shooting his employer an abnormally incredulous look, “I am merely a butler. In the event that anything should happen to you or your wife, it would make far more sense for the child to be given over to the Middlefords, or the lady’s younger sister. While I am… _flattered_ that you consider me a suitable candidate, I hardly think I would be qualified to raise a child, should the need—God forbid— ever arise.” 

Vincent listened to his servant’s sensible objections without speaking, amiable eyes sweeping leisurely up and down the ashen countenance of his half-panicked employee. “…are you quite finished?” he asked lightly, once Sebastian’s tirade seemed to have worn itself to a close. Sebastian, a bit jadedly, nodded. “Good. Now then, I’ll need you to sign here…”

“Sir, did you hear a thing I just said?” the butler dryly intoned, markedly exasperated now. “I really don’t think—”

“Sebastian,” Vincent interrupted lazily, twirling the fountain pen that he had, ‘til that moment, been holding aloft for the other’s use, “how long have you known me?”

“Five years, sir.” Sebastian’s response was immediate. 

“Indeed. And in that time, have you ever _once_ seen me rush into a decision?” the young man prompted, arching a single thin eyebrow. 

“…”

“Well, Sebastian?” he pressed, leveling his friend a pointed stare. 

The butler sighed heavily before admitting, “…no, sir.”

“Exactly so,” Vincent nodded, dropping his pen—with a metallic clatter— atop the collected pile of documents. “Sebastian, I have, of course, thought of my sister, as well as Rachel’s. But Ann, I fear, is too consumed by work and the desire to have a child of her own to have merited serious consideration on my part. As for Frances, well…” He cleared his throat delicately, and for an instant a dark and rather sour expression overtook his pleasant features. “While I love my sister, I am afraid she loves my money and position in the government more than she does my family. I would not want my child to be subjected to that, you understand?” 

Sebastian supposed that he did. “Even so, why _me?_ ” he demanded, his horror only partially mollified. It was still quite a jump from family to hired help, after all. 

Vincent, for his part, looked mildly surprised that his decision merited further explanation. “Because I _know_ you, Sebastian,” he then said simply, as if the answer was entirely obvious. “And I trust you. You don’t just care about my family because you _have_ to—you care about us because you are a good person. And you will continue to care, even after you leave my employ.” 

The butler couldn’t argue with that. But that didn’t mean he was prepared to adopt his master’s child, should the need ever arise. 

Vincent sighed, lowering himself behind his desk and folding his hands over the contract. “I am not going to order you, Sebastian,” he told his servant good-naturedly, tolerant and patient as the butler continued to dither. “It is simply my wish. In the end, of course, the decision is entirely yours… should the choice ever need to be made.” 

Silence.

“…if that is so, sir,” Sebastian finally managed, voice still faint after a minute of soundless thought, “might I ask to wait and make my choice as necessity dictates?” 

In reply, Vincent tucked the papers and pen back into his desk. He then granted Sebastian his leave. 

**64: And**

And he could never tell him—no, not ever. Could hardly bear the _thought_ of what the 10-year-old might say if, someday, he were to discover his caretaker’s secret… Though (sometimes) Sebastian wished he could use the past to bolster the boy—comfort the jealous child, hug him close and promise, _no, I do not, would not, could not love Beast more than you_ , even if he _wanted_ to, because it was impossible to give a heart to someone when that heart was already bursting with love for another. _And my heart will always belong to your mother, Ciel, and there is no one in the world who I could possibly love more than you._

**65: He**

“It is a healthy baby boy, my lady,” Sebastian whispered, handing the tiny, wrinkled bundle of powdery skin to the exhausted Rachel. 

In response, the new mother—hair matted with sweat and pallid skin clammy— pushed herself painfully upright, keenly inspecting the newborn despite her evident weariness. He had a pair of matching ears, a little button nose, cobalt blue irises and downy tufts of… slate-gray hair… 

Sebastian said nothing when Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. But all through the night, he remained attentively by his mistress’s side: a consoling hand on her shoulder as she sobbed over her son. 

**66: She**

She was the most beautiful creature in all of the world, so far as he was concerned— summer sunshine and moonlit nights and chiming glass bells, her amorous, soprano endearments gradually fading into alto-sweet purrs… husky, licentious moans… breathless gasps and shameless groans as she tossed her flaxen head, arched her fragile back, and clutched ever-so-feverishly at the tangled sheets and wooden bedposts. From beneath the coil of her thick, lowered lashes, she would watch Sebastian’s slow descent with sparkling, lust-hazed eyes… But her smile always spoke of purest love, and he could ask for nothing more than that. 

**67: Life**

“Sebastian! Sebastian, put down that tea and come over here. It’s ever so exciting!”

“Sir?”

“Quickly, put your hand on Rachel’s belly! The baby is kicking!”

“… sir, that sort of conduct would be highly inappr—”

“Come now! You don’t mind, do you Rachel?”

“Um, no… No, not at all…”

“There, see? Come on, Sebastian! Don’t make me order you~”

“…if the master insists…”

“Wonderful! Alright, here, let me scoot over. Okay, now you put your hand where mine was. Wait a moment… wait… there! Did you feel it? Sebastian?”

“…”

“Oh, look, Vincent, Sebastian is _smiling_ ~!”

“I— I am not!” 

“Haha, I knew you had a smile in there, _somewhere_ , my friend!” 

“ _Sir_ —!” 

“Oh, don’t tease him, Vincent, you naughty thing.”

“Would you look at that— I never thought I’d see you blush, Sebastian! And ah— look! Your antics have amused the baby, too.”

“…I should return to my chores.”

“Oh, stay, do!” 

“Yes, stay Sebastian. The baby clearly likes you—the little thing is kicking up a storm, now!” 

“… if the master and mistress insist.” 

**68: Work**

“…you are never going to let me finish any of my work, are you?” Sebastian sighed, shooting the little boy a dry (but affectionate) downward glance. Clinging happily— as was his wont— to the butler’s crisp pant leg, Ciel responded with an impish giggle. 

**69: Home**

“Why don’t you come back and visit?” Tanaka suggested— wheedled—as his weathered face contorted into an expression of pointless yearning and futile hope. “It has been three years… The mistress misses your company so very much, and I know that the master feels the same.” 

“ _I was ordered to leave._ ”

The elderly steward winced and sighed, readjusting his arthritic grip on the handset. “I know, but… Well, perhaps the master’s hunch was wrong?” he tried, attempting to sound convincing. “Maybe he’d hire you back, if…”

But it was hard to sway a second party when you couldn’t even persuade yourself. 

“ _As always, it was nice to hear from you, Mr. Tanaka._ ” 

“…goodbye, Sebastian.” 

He didn’t bother calling again. 

**70: Choices**

“… _has apparently requested to leave his son in your care, Mr. Michaelis,_ ” the woman on the other end of the line decreed, speaking loudly over the chatter and cries of the recently orphaned. “ _At the insistence of the family, we have placed Ciel in the temporary care of the Middlefords, but the Phantomhives’ will states explicitly that the final decision— in regards to permanent guardianship— is to rest with you._ ” 

Sebastian pursed his thinning lips, face as white as the knuckles he’d clenched around the telephone. 

“… _Mr. Michaelis? Are you—?_ ”

“Yes. Yes, I am still here.” The butler cleared his throat, messaging his temple with his free hand. “Um… I’m sorry, I just…”

“ _I understand, sir,_ ” the orphanage worker soothed, though she did sound a little hurried. As well she should, Sebastian mused; there were other children and families who needed her time. He wasn’t being fair, all things considered—he’d had eight years to think about this, after all. Even if he’d never dreamed that he’d actually have to make a decision…

“Does he…” Sebastian coughed again, switching ears as he drew support from the kitchen wall. “Does Ciel seem _happy_ with the Middlefords?” he inquired cautiously, not entirely sure what sort of answer he was hoping for. On the one hand, he still thought it best that the boy stay with his biological family. But on the other…

On the other… 

It was the caretaker’s turn to hesitate for a moment. “… _between you and me?_ ” she eventually muttered, lowering her voice to a gossipy mumble. Sebastian offered a prompting nod, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. “ _His aunt scared me, to be frank. Polite enough, but her eyes seemed oddly cold… It’s well known that Ciel has a small fortune in inheritance money, and I fear… I mean, her husband didn’t even seem to_ want— _Well. It’s not my place to judge, but it was pretty clear to me that Ciel’s time with them would only be temporary, so long as they could help it. His cousin seemed sweet, but I hardly think that enough to make things work, you know? And I don’t think Ciel really meshed with them—he’s a good judge of character. Tragic story, though— gone through a great deal of stress, that one… What he needs now is somewhere safe and stable to recuperate. I’m half-afraid that his time with the Middlefords will make things_ worse…” 

“…indeed.” 

Sebastian’s cinnamon eyes flicked to the adjacent living room, finding and lingering upon a framed polaroid. It hung on the furthest wall, just beside the television; he was too far away to make out the details clearly, but he no longer needed to look at it in order to see the picture. Himself, Vincent, Rachel, and little Ciel, posing beside a magnificent sandcastle on a sunny summer beach…

The butler sucked in a steadying breath.

“When’s the soonest I can pick him up?”

  
**XXX**  



End file.
